DISCLAIMER - Highlander and its characters is the copyright of Rysher
and Panzer/Davis Productions and no infringement is intended. The story,
such as it is, is copyright Karen Colohan February 2000.

"Methos?" Duncan MacLeod looked across the barge at his lover, a faint
frown crossing his face.

"Mm?" The old Immortal glanced up from his book and his beer, though it
was clear half his attention was still on them, rather than on Duncan.

"When do you celebrate your birthday?" the Highlander asked. "I don't
remember you having one in all the time I've known you."

Methos' eyebrows rose and he stared at Duncan, surprised. "You know, I
have no idea when I last thought about a birthday," he admitted. He smiled
slightly. "Once you get to my age it all seems a bit superfluous. Besides,
I really have no idea of the date in the modern calendar."

"Surely you at least remember the time of year you were born," insisted
Duncan.

"Hm, it was in the spring - I think, anyway," decided Methos after a few
moments' consideration. "But it was all a very long time ago, Mac."

"And that's it? That's all you can remember?" Duncan shook his head.

"Sorry," Methos shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Like I said, it
hasn't really seemed that important in a long while. I prefer to concentrate
on continuing to live, to survive - not on how long I've already done it
for."

"But don't you miss actually having the celebration?" Duncan persisted.

"No, I can't say I do." Methos laughed. "Why are you so fixated on this,
Mac? Do you want to throw me a party or something?"

Duncan's face - which had drawn down into the beginnings of a serious
pout - brightened abruptly at Methos' mention of a party. "Now there's
an idea..." he mused.

Methos groaned. "Oh no, what have I done?" he grumbled good-naturedly.
"A Highlander on a mission, just what I need!"

"No, I'm serious, Methos," said Duncan, his dark eyes sparkling. "Leave
everything to me, I'm going to help you make up for all those birthdays you've
missed out on... Just you wait and see!"

******************

When no party, or any other form of celebration, materialised over the
course of the next few days Methos assumed Duncan had thought better of the
idea. While he told himself he was glad of the fact, secretly Methos found
he was a little disappointed. The thought that Duncan had wanted to mark
his now unknown birthday in some way had actually been rather appealing.
It was the kind of romantic gesture Methos could imagine Duncan making for
one of his female lovers, so why not for him too?

Methos shook his head, wondering at his own foolishness. Since when had
he needed grand romantic gestures? He and Duncan were happy and settled together,
that was what mattered. He didn't need hearts and flowers to tell him that
he was loved. Still, it would have been nice...

The old Immortal was returning to the barge after a foray to the shops.
He'd been out to pick up an old book that he'd ordered in. Duncan hadn't
gone with him, saying that he had errands of his own to run. As Methos approached
the barge he could feel Duncan's familiar presence and he smiled as he stepped
onto the deck. That, Methos told himself, was all he needed. The knowledge
that he had the Highlander to come home to. It was so much more than he'd
had in centuries, and probably more than he deserved.

As Methos descended the stairs into the barge it took him a moment to
register that there was something strange about the light inside. When he
did he pulled up short and looked around him in amazement. The barge was
full of lit candles. It seemed as if every flat surface was adorned with
them. And their flames danced in the air currents from the opened door, casting
endlessly moving shadows.

Duncan was waiting for him, perched on the back of the couch. The Highlander
watched his approach nervously, as if he were unsure of Methos' reaction.

"Mac?" Methos asked curiously. "What is this?"

"Your birthday celebration," replied Duncan. "Do you like it?"

Methos frowned. "But I thought you wanted to have a party."

"This is a party," said Duncan with a soft smile. "A very private
one... only the most important people get invited."

A delighted grin plastered itself firmly on Methos' lips. Well, he'd wished
for a romantic gesture, and what could be more so than this? He slid his
coat off, letting it fall with a muffled thud as his hidden sword hit the
floor. Then he advanced slowly on the Highlander, all contained grace and
power.

"This is perfect, Mac," said Methos. "A party made for two... So, does
that mean you're my present then?"

"Why, do you want to unwrap me?" teased Duncan. He looked up at the old
Immortal, who had come to a halt in front of him.

"Oh yes," breathed Methos, one hand stealing out to caress the dark silk
of Duncan's hair. It was unbound and had been brushed until it shone in the
soft candlelight. "But why all the candles?" he asked curiously. "Are you
trying to make me nostalgic for the good old days?"

"Well, I had thought about having a cake made and putting candles on that,"
Duncan explained, his lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement. "But
then I realised just how big a cake you'd need for 5,000 candles, so... Ow!!
Methos, no! That was a joke!" he protested as the old Immortal grabbed
a good handful of his hair and hauled him up until they were nose to nose.

"Are you trying to suggest that I'm too old?" asked Methos, his
eyes narrowing dangerously. "You should learn to respect my age, MacLeod,
not make cheap cracks about it." He let go of Duncan and the Highlander dropped
back down onto the couch, eyeing his lover uncertainly.

"I didn't mean... I - really it was just a joke," stammered Duncan. "Please,
don't take offence, Methos."

"Of course it was," agreed Methos equably, and then a wicked smile curved
his lips. "But I had you worried for a moment, didn't I? And you're too fond
of all these ageist digs - experience is good, MacLeod, remember that."

"Yeah, well, you can be such a grouch sometimes," muttered Duncan, but
inwardly he sighed with relief. He wanted tonight to be perfect and having
a grumpy ancient Immortal on his hands certainly didn't qualify.

"Hm, that probably comes of being so old," smirked Methos. "So, we've
established that the candles are your none too subtle homage to my age. What
else is on the agenda then? Apart from the obvious," he added, leaning in
to kiss Duncan sweetly on the lips.

The kiss quickly developed into a full blown seduction in its own right.
Grateful that Methos wasn't angry with him, Duncan put everything into his
response to the mouth covering his own. He parted his lips, inviting Methos'
tongue to enter. When the old Immortal took him up on the offer Duncan sucked
on the slippery invader, twining his own tongue with it in a sensual dance.
Their lips pressed together hungrily and breathing rapidly became an unnecessary
distraction, indeed an impossibility. Only when Duncan could feel himself
becoming dangerously light-headed did he reluctantly pull back from the addictive
taste of the other Immortal's mouth.

For a long moment the two men stood in silence, their foreheads resting
lightly together as they gasped in much needed oxygen. Methos was the first
to recover enough to move. He straightened up and cupped Duncan's cheek in
one calloused palm. Methos stroked it softly, feeling the rasp of stubble
against his skin.

"I like my present," Methos murmured lazily. "And I think I'll like it
even better without the wrapping..." His hands moved to begin unfastening
Duncan's shirt, but the Highlander stopped him.

"Hold that thought, Methos," said Duncan quickly. "If you wait just a
moment I have something else for you. Why don't you go and get comfortable
and I'll bring it over."

Methos followed the direction of Duncan's gaze to the bed and nodded his
agreement. He stopped just long enough to tease another kiss full of infinite
promise from the Highlander's lips before he went, though.

After Methos released him Duncan took another moment to gather his scattered
wits. The fire of arousal burned hot in him after the old Immortal's fierce
kisses and Duncan anticipated the inevitable outcome of the evening eagerly.
He padded into the kitchen and quickly retrieved the items he wanted. When
he made his way back to the bed Duncan found Methos had taken his instruction
literally - at any rate, he certainly looked very comfortable. The
old Immortal was tucked under the sheets, propped up on a couple of pillows.
It was readily apparent that under cover of the bedding Methos was now
naked.

"What took you so long?" asked Methos with a grin as Duncan came and perched
beside him on the edge of the bed. "Oooh, champagne and chocolates,
Mac - very romantic!"

"Oh, stop taking me so damned seriously, Mac," said Methos in exasperation.
"It's a lovely gesture. I'm just not used to being on the receiving end of
the whole hearts and flowers thing. That doesn't mean I don't like it, though.
Come on, open the champagne and let's have a toast."

"To a certain sentimental, romantic Scot," said Methos with an affectionate
smile. "May he never become old and cynical!"

"I'll drink to that," muttered Duncan, but a smile tugged at his lips,
taking any sting from his words.

The champagne bottle opened with a satisfying pop and Methos grabbed one
of the glasses Duncan had brought over, using it to catch the spill of bubbles
before they could hit the sheets. He held both glasses while Duncan filled
them and surrendered one to the Highlander when he set the bottle down on
the bedside table.

"Now, about that toast..." Methos began, but Duncan interrupted him.

"To us," said Duncan firmly and clinked the rim of his glass against the
other Immortal's.

"To us," agreed Methos. It was a toast he could willingly drink to. They
sipped their champagne in silence for a moment and then Methos asked,
"Now can I unwrap my present?"

"Yeah, now would be a good time," said Duncan softly.

Methos moved the box of chocolates to safety then plucked the glass from
Duncan's hand, setting it aside with his own. He sat forward and reached
for the buttons on Duncan's shirt once more. His long fingers made short
work of them and then Methos pushed the silky fabric off the Highlander's
shoulders. Methos' hands roamed lightly over the soft warmth of Duncan's
bronzed skin, slowly tracing the contours of the muscles defining his chest
and arms.

"Closer, Duncan," whispered Methos huskily and Duncan shifted until mere
inches separated their bodies. "Perfect..." declared the old Immortal and
bent his head to lay a trail of soft bites along the line of Duncan's collarbone.
When Methos reached the hollow of Duncan's throat he stopped, sucking on
the warm skin until he had marked the Highlander as his own, albeit
fleetingly.

Satisfied with his claim Methos moved lower. His tongue lapped at the
fine, dark hairs that lightly covered Duncan's chest. He searched by touch
until he found the flat discs of Duncan's nipples. With rough strokes of
his tongue Methos worked at them until they formed hard, tight nubs. He feasted
on the salty sweet peaks and soon had Duncan moaning helplessly with pleasure
and arousal.

Methos drew back until he could see Duncan's flushed face. The dark eyes
were closed and the Highlander had caught his full lower lip between his
sharp white teeth. Methos smiled and leaned forward again, claiming the abused
flesh for his own. He sucked the bruised lip softly, kissing Duncan until
he coaxed more moans from the Highlander's throat.

Duncan relaxed and let Methos have free rein. After all, he had
said he was the oldest Immortal's birthday present. Besides which, the things
Methos was doing to him felt wonderful. In the end, though, Duncan let himself
relax to such a degree that he had no idea how he suddenly found himself
flat on his back with Methos bending over him, a smug grin gracing his
lips.

Methos took advantage of the Highlander's ungainly sprawl, unfastening
his trousers and hauling them off the unresisting figure. Duncan's cock was
clearly outlined by the snug white briefs he wore underneath. The fabric
was all but transparent, damp with pre-come. Methos leaned down and traced
the hard length with long, slow strokes of his tongue. He smiled as Duncan's
hips came up off the bed, begging for more of Methos' teasing mouth. Slowly
the old Immortal peeled the damp material away, sliding the briefs down Duncan's
well-muscled legs and then tossing them over the edge of the bed.

As the cool air of the barge caressed his naked skin Duncan shivered.
Almost at once, though, the warmth of two strong hands settled on him, gliding
with tantalising slowness up his calves and then his thighs. The long fingers
kneaded suddenly taut muscles, but continued to ignore the one place Duncan
most wanted them to touch. Then they retreated altogether. Duncan opened
his eyes, ready to protest, but the sight that greeted him stole his voice
completely.

Methos had straddled Duncan's thighs and was watching the Highlander intently,
his hazel eyes lit with an expression compounded of deep affection and desire.
The warmth of it was as tangible as the touch of his hands had been. Methos
was every bit as aroused as Duncan, the slender length of his cock jutting
from the patch of dark curls at his groin. The pale smoothness of Methos'
skin had been washed by the warm glow of the myriad candles and, to Duncan's
eyes, the old Immortal had never looked more like a creature of myth and
legend - fey and beautiful.

Pushing aside his own desire for the moment, Duncan reached out to wrap
one of his hands around the swollen length of Methos' cock. The other Immortal
started at the touch, as if he hadn't been expecting it. But as Duncan began
to slide his hand up and down the damp, overheated skin a sigh of pleasure
escaped Methos' lips. Then, as Duncan increased the pressure of his strokes,
Methos began to thrust his hips in counterpoint to the Highlander's caresses,
slowly fucking the encircling palm.

Duncan watched avidly as Methos gave himself over utterly to the sensations.
It was so rare to see Methos without one of his protective masks in place
that Duncan treasured these few unguarded moments. As the old Immortal's
eyes closed and his lips parted in response to the building pleasure Duncan
wondered which of them had received the greater gift.

Methos' movements were becoming more frantic, less controlled, and Duncan
knew he had to be close. Duncan brought his free hand up to steady Methos,
splaying his broad palm across the small of the other Immortal's back.

The added touch was more than Methos could take. He thrust sharply into
Duncan's hand one last time and then froze as his climax swept over him.
He came hard, feeling the pulses of semen spill from him over Duncan's hand
and onto his thighs. They seemed to take the last of Methos' strength with
them. As the final waves of pleasure retreated Methos slumped forward onto
his hands and knees. He could feel the soothing touch of Duncan's hands on
his sweaty skin and hear the meaningless whisper of his words. It was seductive
and Methos let himself be eased down to lie at Duncan's side, the Highlander's
arms holding him close.

"Happy birthday, Methos," murmured Duncan softly, his lips moving against
the damp spikes of the old Immortal's hair.

"That was one hell of a present," said Methos with a shaky laugh. He reached
out a hand, stroking Duncan's stomach lightly and feeling the muscles flutter
under his fingertips.

"You don't have to wait for your next birthday to get a repeat performance,
though," said Duncan, smiling contentedly.

"Good," Methos chuckled, "I don't think I could wait that long.
You're just too much of a temptation, MacLeod..." Methos' voice trailed off
as his fingers encountered Duncan's still erect cock. "I think you've been
holding out on me," he continued, wrapping his hand around the hard length.
"I still have the best part of my treat to come - literally..." he added
with a wicked grin. "Now, does this taste as good as it feels? Hm?"

Suiting actions to words Methos slid down Duncan's body until he could
take the Highlander's cock into his mouth. He sucked the swollen head, lapping
at the sticky pre-come coating it. Then he flicked the tip of his tongue
over the sensitive slit in search of more. Duncan's gasps and moans of pleasure
were all the encouragement Methos needed. Relaxing his throat he took the
whole of Duncan's cock into his mouth. Methos let his teeth graze the swollen
shaft as he slowly withdrew and then swallowed Duncan to the hilt once
more.

It was too much for Duncan's already shaky control and he came long and
hard. The salty fluid spilled down Methos' throat and he swallowed it eagerly,
loving the intimate taste of the Highlander's pleasure. Methos suckled the
softening cock until there was no more to be had and then carefully drew
back. He kissed the lax flesh gently and then trailed more kisses up Duncan's
torso and neck, until he found his way back to the soft lips.

Duncan returned the kiss with lazy pleasure, tasting himself on the old
Immortal's lips and tongue. "Mmm," he sighed when their mouths finally broke
apart, "still think I'm holding out on you?"

Methos grinned. "Probably, but by the time I'm done there won't be a nook
or cranny left unexplored where you could hide my present."

"I thought I was your present," laughed Duncan.

"No, I've decided that you're the wrapping," announced Methos, "because
that's always more fun to play with than the present itself. Hm, so where
should I look next?"

Duncan smiled fondly at his lover as Methos' elegant fingers went exploring
again. 5,000 years old and yet Methos still retained not only the capacity
for love but, at times, an almost child-like playfulness. Duncan had no idea
how he'd managed it, especially given what little the Highlander knew of
Methos' past, but he was more than grateful that it was so. Silently thanking
whatever deity had seen fit to bring the oldest Immortal into his life Duncan
lay back to enjoy whatever else Methos had in mind for his birthday
celebrations.